


What You've Done To Me

by Morteamore



Series: Kinktober 2019 [2]
Category: A Way Out (Video Game)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Blood, Edgeplay, Kinktober 2019, Knifeplay, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 21:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21022361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morteamore/pseuds/Morteamore
Summary: While repairing the truck they find at the elderly couple's farmhouse, Vincent ends up getting held at knife point by Leo. What the other man actually wants from him, however, doesn't turn out to be exactly what he expected.





	What You've Done To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kinktober prompts: Sixty-nine, Vehicle sex, and Edgeplay  
Find me over on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/MorteAmore)

When Leo pulled the knife from his boot, Vincent was certain that the gig was up. With dark eyes, the other man was staring him down, lip jutting out in a slight sneer, wiry muscles in his forearm straining. The point of the blade pressed into the hollow of Vincent’s throat, indenting the soft skin there. Any moment it could slip beneath the flesh and slice through the vein, drawing forth that warm arterial spray.

“If this is the way you’re going to end it,” Vincent said in a rush of breath, his voice a deadpan. “Then just get on with it.”

Beneath his t-shirt, the other man’s chest rose and fell at least three times with his breaths. There was the shriek of old shocks as he lowered himself to a crouch in the truck bed, his gaze leveling with Vincent’s, who was currently kneeling. A filthy, rugged tire was stood upright before him, his grip keeping it in place. He rolled it a few more inches and then tossed it over the side on to the garage floor, never breaking Leo’s stare. A hand shot out, pawing at Vincent’s crotch, clumsy fingers fumbling at it like a virgin on prom night. Something softened in Leo’s eyes, then, the edge of his mouth beginning the languid transformation into a smirk. His gaze flickered to the nearby garage window, his focus the farmhouse beyond it, where they’d tied up the elderly couple and locked them in a closet.

Vincent seemed to read his mind.

“They’re not getting out of there anytime soon.”

“Did I fucking ask you?” Leo shot back.

At Vincent’s huff, Leo’s knife dipped lower. As it poked into his shirt, the sharp point scratching at his skin through the garment, Vincent tried not to let his unease show. Chaotic, his fuse short and his fists his first solution to most problems, Leo was a violent criminal. He was capable of many things, and the older man at his mercy did not doubt that if pushed, he would have no qualms about where that knife ended up. It was difficult not to squirm as Leo took hold of his collar with his other hand, pulled it taut until the material was bunched in his fist. The knife descended, sawing through the stressed cotton with a distinct ripping sound. The edge made a line down his sternum, and he gulped hard, keeping ever steady.

“Better not flinch, Vince,” Leo taunted. “Might hit something vital.”

“Pretty sure my heart’s not in my stomach.”

“Maybe not.” A pinprick of pain blossomed where Leo leaned in with the knife, a rivulet of warmth tickling at Vincent’s abdomen. He glanced down, saw the thin streak of blood on his skin. “Gut wound will still hurt like a bitch, though. Probably could even kill you without patching up.”

The knife finished its descent, destroying the last bits of cheap fabric as Leo had to work double as hard to slice through the hem. He didn’t stop there, however. Soon the blade was poised precariously at the crotch of Vincent’s khakis, the thick material the only thing keeping it from poking right into his balls. A hint of teeth from Leo, who looked like he’d stab the weapon through at any moment. Vincent held his breath, realized he was doing so and let it all out at once. Sweat was a thin, clammy sheen on his forehead. Snickering mostly to himself, Leo jerked his hand away, slipped the side of the blade against the button and eye of the pants closure, working them apart. With some dexterous twirl of his fingers, he turned the blade on himself.

Vincent couldn’t read his expression, didn’t know what he was up to. Not until he made two vicious slashes at his own chest, cutting through his shirt with ease, blood blossoming crimson through the fabric. He made another gash up his forearm, narrowly avoiding a serious wound, more blood spilling forth and trickling down to pool on the grooves of the truck bed.

“What the fuck you doin’ to me, Vince?” Leo said, voice bereft of emotion. “You tryin’ to fuckin’ kill me?”

A narrowed gaze fell on Leo. But Vincent thought he understood. Taking the weapon from Leo, smudges of blood stained his fingers as he tossed it aside, the handle clamoring against metal as it bounced away. He finished working open his pants, grabbed Leo by a fistful of hair at the back of his head.

“This work better for you?”

It took a moment, but he thought he saw Leo nod, so minute he couldn’t be sure. Still, it would do. His fingers fishing through the y-front of his briefs, he extracted his cock, the shaft semi-flushed with blood. Leo was trying not to stare at it, but his eyelids kept drooping, gaze flickering downward. 

“Whatever helps you sleep better at night,” Vincent murmured.

And then he was tugging Leo’s head down between his legs. The other man allowed himself to be guided without protest, though he was careful not to show any enthusiasm either. Lips wrapped almost delicately around Vincent’s cock, sucked the head gently in. It made his shaft give a single, concentrated throb; made it twitch in delight of contact. It had been awhile since he’d had the pleasure of anything but his own hand, and Leo’s mouth hadn’t even been on his agenda nor ever crossed his mind. But here he was, dishonoring his sacred vows, yearning for more of that wet heat to engulf him. The truck creaking, he pushed forward slightly, more of his length disappearing into the gape of his companion’s mouth. Leo made a gagging sound, throat spasming. He coughed without pulling off once, twice, the feel of his jaw flexing around Vincent strangely pleasant.

But Vincent was not one to take without giving and pilfer all the pleasure for himself. As nice as a blowjob was after hobnobbing in prison for awhile, it felt almost wrong to just use Leo this way no matter how much he seemed to want to be used. It didn’t matter that he was a hardened convict on the lam, and that Vincent was secretly an opposing force. Right now they were equals, Vincent in neck deep and sinking ever further. 

Starting to shift his position, Leo stayed attached to Vincent even as he stretched himself out and laid longways, encouraging Leo to do the same with guiding hands around his legs and torso. The truck rocked gently with the new distribution of their weight, drool seeping from Leo’s mouth as he tried to work more of his companion’s cock into his amateur mouth even as Vincent was undoing the man’s pants. Already hard, the bulge as Vincent peeled Leo’s zipper down to reveal his boxers was prominent. Leo groaned slightly as it was caressed through the material, extracted a moment later, the vibrations radiating along Vincent’s shaft penetrating deep into his groin. He gasped, then, might’ve groped Leo a bit too hard as his pelvis shifted with the tension.

Vincent wasn’t exactly a stranger to this. Once upon a time in his youth, he’d dabbled, maybe even had enjoyed it. But the pressure to throw himself into a career, get married, and have a family had steered him far, far away from those snapshots of time. He was out of practice, and he’d never had a dick quite as endowed as Leo’s in his mouth ever. It seemed to be the same situation for Leo. Though, despite his lack of skill, he seemed plenty enthusiastic. Slight noises of discomfort escaped him as he let Vincent slip further down his throat, saliva glistening as he almost reached the hilt. Vincent moaned, his tongue coiling against the underside of Leo’s cock, drawing the slightly musky scented length into his mouth. It tasted earthen, not too different than he’d figured it would. Something teased against Vincent’s balls, then, grasping at them, kneading. The sensation made his pulse quicken, made him feel rushed. More than half of Leo’s cock slipped down his throat in that moment, choking off his air, his throat constricting around it.

“Fuck yeah,” Leo murmured as he pulled off, tongue prodding at the other man’s slit as soon as the words had faded. 

Muscles contracting, a deep pulse of heat made Vincent’s shaft throb. He felt dangerously close to orgasm, dangling on the precipice. And yet, he felt he hadn’t given Leo half as good a time as he’d been given. Well, he’d just have to remedy that. Suppressing a shudder, he drove onward, willing his throat to relax as the blunt head of the other man’s cock slipped even further down. Vincent’s nose was braced against skin and pubic hair, his jaws working as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard at engorged flesh. He wasn’t brave enough to actually touch Leo with his hands, felt, as ridiculous as it was, that it would be too much betrayal on his part; the proverbial line that once crossed couldn’t be redrawn. The truck was jostled as Leo shifted against him, his hips rolling and bucking as if in slow motion.

“Oh my fucking god,” he gasped out, eyes squeezed shut. “You’re gonna make me cum, Vince.” 

In the warm depths of his mouth, Vincent could feel the minute flexes and twitches of skin that signaled that Leo meant what he said. He could also taste the fine droplets of salt rolling along his tongue; a prelude to a torrent. Leo’s breathing came heavy from his nose as sucked Vincent down again, the expansion and compression of his chest spiraling into quick succession. Moments later, a choked sound was ripped sharply from where he had his lips around Vincent, the truck bed squealing as his hips jerked hard. Hot spurts of salty and bitter jism flooded Vincent’s mouth, some of it slipping down his throat. Desperate not to choke on the shear amount, he ripped his mouth off the other man, letting the majority dribble out past his lips. 

He was catching his breath when it hit him, that transformation from slow rise to the point of no return. It was impossible to hold back, all his muscles contracting at once, dust motes from the truck bed kicked up in their wake. The sounds he made were mostly swallowed; he had that much control of himself left. They sounded pained, the way they tried to crescendo and were promptly snuffed out. His cum filled Leo’s mouth, but the other man didn’t pull off like Vincent had. Instead, Vincent could feel the ripples of his throat working around his shaft as he swallowed it down, perhaps having more practice at this than his companion had initially figured.

For minutes or an hour—neither Vincent nor Leo were keeping track of the time—the two man lay in the beat up old vehicle, trying to regain their composure, ultimately losing their grasp on it each time. The first to gather his wits and push himself upright, maybe not surprisingly, was Leo. He swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, wiping a smidgen of cum that had dribbled out on to his chin and began to dry. Without looking at Vincent, he crawled to the side of the truck, slipping over it as if he were boneless, pooling out on to the ground. His hand went for the handle of the gas can they’d left sitting there, hefting the full canister up.

“Come on, man,” he called, voice only slightly hoarse. “Let’s fuel up this old baby and get our asses out of here.”

Vincent sighed, rubbing at his beard as he sat up, ruffled slightly by how damp it felt. His gaze swept to Leo, but the man’s back was turned to him as he filled the truck’s gas tank. There’d be no post-orgasm discussion, no pillow talk from him. 

“Yeah, Yeah,” he muttered as he slipped off the truck, sighing again as he directed himself toward the cab and wrenched open the door probably harder than was necessary.

Leo didn’t look over at the sharp squeal of sound. He doubted the man was going to be caught looking at him at all for some time. It shouldn’t have conflicted him. But somehow it held power over him anyway.

No matter. There was no time for such thoughts to invade and take roost. He had to be certain this goddam truck wasn’t just a worthless fossil, hopefully able to carry them far away from this place and the memory of their intimate moment together.


End file.
